Lady luck
by Ophium
Summary: Every day is a regular day. It's just your definition of 'regular' that changes.
1. Chapter 1

"Don't look down, Andy. Eyes on me, man!"

Andy tore his eyes from the raging inferno below to look at the face of the person standing between him and a gruesome death.

The guy's short blond hair was glued to his head, fat drops of sweat carving stripes of whiteness amongst the soot covered face. In that dark, confined space, lit only by the flames below, the guy's blue eyes had gained a laser-beam quality that seemed to burn brighter than the beast trying to kill them both.

Looking past the man's red with exertion face, Andy's gaze searched for the fine line tethering them to life. The fingers curled around the metal cable were white with the effort of supporting both of their weights, blood pouring freely from where the metal had already cut into skin. There was no way that grasp would hold for much longer.

-o-

Andrew Manner was what people tended to call a 'really lucky bastard'.

He'd never won the lottery and he wasn't exactly prone to find hundred-dollar bills stuck to his shoes. No, Andy's luck was more of the close-calls type.

Like that one time when the coffee shop where he usually got his coffee every morning got robbed five minutes after he left; or that time when his car died on him just as the traffic sign turned green and Andy's car was the only one not involved in a four car pile up in that intersection. Then there was the thing with the gas leak at work during his vacations, and flower vase that fell on the guy that was standing right next to him in the middle of the street, and the food poisoning incident at the cafeteria on the exact same day a couple of buddies of his had dragged him off work to lunch...

Andy should've realized that, with all that luck, the Universe was probably trying to tell him something.

So, when Andy found himself trapped in an elevator, inside a burning building, it would make sense that only other guy stuck in there with him would be a Chicago Fire Department firefighter.


	2. The beginning

THE BEGINNING

"Hold that!"

The voice held such command that Andy didn't even stopped to think; he just extended his hand, catching the elevator's doors before they could close.

The man skid to stop inside the lift and gave Andy a warm smile. "Thanks! The other one's out of service and I'm already running late," he said, thumb pointing vaguely to the right, where the other elevator supposedly stood inoperative.

Andy gave the whole notion an uninterested shrug. "Which floor?" he asked, not so much out of politeness but more to gauge how long would he have to share a lift ride with a guy who was obviously into over-sharing. Most people thought that elevator music was the worse, but Andy had long learned that the true curse of skyscrapers' elevators wasn't the music at all. It was the casual acquaintances.

"95th," the man supplied, moving to casually lean against the opposite wall, hands in his pockets, settling comfortably for the long ride. Fast as those lifts were, 95th was all but the top of the John Hancock Center.

Andy pressed the button and contented himself with watching the numbers roll by in the display. He was heading for floor 74th, for the second time that day, having been called back by his boss to do some overtime because some half-assed client had forgotten to fill out his tax returns properly.

95th was the restaurant floor, everyone knew that. Fancy restaurant at that, with the breath-taking view and the gourmet food and the romantic candle-lit tables. Andy had never been there; he'd never had an excuse good enough to drop that kind of money on a single meal.

Peeling his eyes from the fast rolling numbers, Andy looked back at his current lift-companion. At that hour of the night, of course that guy would be heading for the restaurant; tenants had a private set of elevators of their own and most of the other offices were already closed for the day.

Out of boredom, Andy tried to guess which big event this particular stranger was up celebrating in the fancy restaurant Andy had never set foot to. A birthday, perhaps? He wasn't carrying any wrapped gift, but that didn't meant a thing if he was the one blowing the candles. Some other kind of anniversary? No ring on the guy's finger, so odds were it wasn't his wedding anniversary... maybe his parents? Friends?

The elevator's background music cut off abruptly, replaced almost immediately by the most annoying sound Andy had ever heard. "What is that?" he asked, resisting the urge to cover his ears like a five year old.

"Fire alarm."

Andy looked at him, trying to understand if the other man was talking seriously or just pulling his leg. His voice had been far too calm and controlled for him to be serious but the concerned look on the man's face was pretty convincing. "Bullshit," Andy called out with as much confidence as he could muster.

As if to prove him wrong, the lift decided to chose that precise moment to lurch to a stop. Given the velocity they had been going up, it wasn't a gentle stop.

For a split second, Andy got to taste the meaning of 'zero gravity', or at least as close as he figured he would ever get. His body felt weightless, just before he felt himself being smacked by an invisible brute force and thrown against the metal wall.

-o-

"Hey, buddy, you with me?"

The voice was barely audible over the cacophony of ringing bells inside his head.

"Come on, I need you to open your eyes."

For the second time that night, Andy found himself obeying that voice without question. A pair of gentle blue eyes greeted him.

"There you go," the owner of said eyes, said with the same amount of enthusiasm as someone who'd just won the lottery. "What's your name?"

"Andy," he rasped out. "Andy Manner."

"Hey, Andy, I'm Matt. How're you feeling? Any nausea, dizziness?"

He felt hot. Everything around them was bathed in an uncomfortable red light that seemed to make everything feel warmer. On fire. "You'd said something about a fire alarm? Is the building on fire?!" Andy asked instead, his heart starting to race inside his chest. He tried to suck in a deep breath to calm himself, only to have his lungs rebel on him in a sudden cough.

The other guy scrunched back, his hand touching the metal floor for a second before he pulled it back with a concerned frown. "Slow breaths," Matt said in the same controlled tone that was starting to get on Andy's nerves. "We can't see it yet, but I think the smoke's already getting inside the lift."

Andy's eyes almost bulged out of head. The guy hadn't exactly answered his question, but it was a sure bet that where there was smoke, there was fire. Already he could feel the acrid taste taking residence inside his throat. "We're gonna die," he said with the same finality of a judge passing a sentence.

Instead of joining him in his rapid descent into despair and panic, Matt was quiet, silently staring at Andy. If he didn't know better, Andy would say that he was assessing him, passing some sort of judgment of his own.

"Look, I'm gonna be straight with you," Matt started, apparently having reached a decision.

Andy's hands balled into fists. In his experience, never had those words been followed by something nice and positive.

"The doors are sealed shut, which means that we're probably stuck between floors. In any other situation, I would say that our best course of action would be to sit tight and wait for someone to come and get us, but..." he stopped himself, lower lip disappearing behind his teeth. "Look, the floor is getting really warm and the smoke is starting to built up in here and those vents stopped working a while go, so I—"

"I'm not moving from here," Andy cut through his words. The guy was nuts if he thought that Andy was going to move an inch outside of that lift, where it was safe. No way. He'd seen too many horror movies to do anything _other_ than stay put. "And if you have any sense at all, you'll stop trying to be Mr. Smarty-pants about this and wait for people who actually know what they're doing, to come and rescue us. I'm sure that the police or the fire department or the frigging FBI are already on their way."

Matt raised an eyebrow, like he wasn't used to people talking to him in that tone of voice. Running his hands over his short-cropped hair, he ended up fishing something out of his pocket and pressing it into Andy's hands.

The lonely laugh that escaped Andy's lips as soon as he saw what he was holding was more of the nervous pressure-release valve type than him appreciating the humor of the situation.

The silver badge looked coppery in the red emergency light, property of one Lieutenant Mathew Casey, Chicago Fire Department. Andy gave him the badge back, his head hung in defeat. "You were saying?"


	3. Down

AN: My biggest thank you to those who've reviewed! You guys are awesome! Also, this would be a nice moment to point out that ARE SPOILERS for the show in this story, if you are not up to date on the aired episodes. Keep on having fun!

* * *

DOWN

Dawson looked at her cell phone for the fifth time in as many minutes. Matt was running late.

She pulled down -_again_- the edge of her short, black dress before wrapping her hands around her cold drink. Bar stools were definitely not tiny-dresses friendly, but when Matt had told her where they were having dinner, Gabby figured it was a great excuse to dress up.

Beyond the brightly lit bar, the restaurant was slowly filling up. Backlit by the lights of Chicago, the view was simply amazing. It felt like she was standing on a little cloud, watching the city below. She had never been there before, but it was already one of her favorite places.

Gabby looked at the phone again. Fifteen minutes late.

They had left their shift at the same time that morning, but by the time she had gotten out of bed, Matt had already gone out. He'd told her that he had a construction job to deal with but that he would be at the restaurant on time.

And now he was running late.

Dawson twirled the ice in her drink before taking a sip. Maybe she should call him, find out how long he would take to get there. Maybe they should've just stayed home that night, have a nice lazy evening, just the two of them.

Ever since Matt's... '_episode_' at that restaurant with all the baby animals' food, Gabby couldn't help but feel a little bit nervous whenever they went out. Granted, Casey seemed to be back to his sweet old self, but once she had seen that green jealousy –or whatever the hell that was- monster emerge its ugly head, there was no unseeing it.

The loud sound of the fire alarm going off broke her out of her reverie, bringing her thoughts crashing back to Earth. "What the hell..."

Alarm sounds had an implicit tendency to push people into motion, more often than not, in a panic. It was what they were designed to do, it was their purpose.

Working in a Firehouse had somewhat skewed that primal response for Dawson and her colleagues. Hearing an alarm, for them, had the effect of sharpening their senses and set them into professional mode. It was a conditioned response, and one that Gabby found no reason to complain about.

Maybe this was nothing but some prank, some smartass who found it amusing to pull the fire alarm for no other reason other than to see people running around like headless chickens.

That up high in a skyscraper, Dawson _really_ hoped that that was the case.

Either way, she knew that she had to treat this as a real situation and do her best to get all of those people to safety. She might have flunked her firefighter's test, but that didn't mean that she wasn't better prepared to deal with this scenario than most of the people in there.

"Hey! Everyone!" She called out, catching the attention of those who were still trying to decide whether to fight or flee. "Stairway is this way!"

"It's 95 floors to the bottom!" A woman let out, the indignation in her voice making it appear as if someone had just suggested that they'd jump off an airplane without a parachute. "I'm taking the damn lift!"

Dawson walked into her path, acutely aware of the number of followers that the woman's idea had rapidly gained. After all, 95 floors _was_ a bitch, no arguing that point. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, ma'm," she said, as calmly as her low tolerance for stupid people allowed. "Even if this is a false alarm, elevators are programmed to stop functioning minutes after the fire alarm goes off," she explained. "Do you really wanna spend your night stuck inside one?"

-o-

"Are you sure about this?" Andy asked, for what felt like the hundredth time. He shifted his feet a bit, trying to compensate for the current extra weight on his shoulders. "This doesn't feel like a great idea... at all," he added, looking up.

Sitting on his shoulders, Matt was currently fiddling with the elevator's roof access panels, something that Andy had been pretty sure wasn't even there until the false ceiling had been pulled off to reveal them. The thing, however, seemed to be bolted shut.

"Look," Matt said in between grunts. He was trying to unscrew the access panel using his house keys and every time they slipped, his fingers would scrape against the bolt. It was slow going and painful. "The lift should've taken us to the ground floor by now. It's what they are programmed to do."

Andy frowned. "So, why didn't it?"

"The only situation when an elevator will fail to do that is when..." Matt stopped, giving a small whoop of victory as one more of the bolts fell to the floor. "Is when the fire is at the ground floor."

Despite the heat inside the metal box where they currently were stuck in, Andy could feel his blood run cold. "Could you try not to say that like it's a good thing?"

"It _is_ a good thing," Matt went on. Two more bolts and they were out of there. "We're stuck between floors 60 and 61. If the fire started on the ground floor, that means we still have some time to get out of here and reach safety."

An awful amount of time seemed to have passed since Matt had asked him to be a human ladder and the third bolt hitting the floor. The guy was kind of heavy and Andy was pretty sure he was starting to loose all feeling in his arms. "How much longer?"

The metallic growl that followed Andy's words was the scariest thing he had ever heard. And _so_ not the answer he was looking for. "What was that?"

Matt had stopped for a second, only to resume his actions with more fervor than before. "Not good."

The sound came again, like a big wild cat waiting to pounce. Like a giant beast's stomach, aching to eat them. "Hurry up!"

The elevator movement was so sudden and brutal that Andy almost felt his feet leave the floor. It lurched down, unbalanced, one side of the ground seemingly sliding faster than the other.

Andy screamed, his hands flying sideways in some vague hope to find some point of stability. Unfortunately, the second his fingers stopped grabbing onto Matt's legs, the other man came crashing down.

Three things happened exactly at the same time, or so it sounded to Andy ears, as he refused to open his eyes.

The last bolt on the ceiling panel that Matt had been working on, fell down with a loud metallic bang, like a bullet bouncing off walls.

The elevator stopped moving with a loud metallic screech, like nails on a chalkboard.

Matt's head hit the side panels with a loud metallic crack, like... nothing he could compare it to. It was truly the worst sound Andy had ever heard.


	4. Priorities

AN: Once again, my deepest thanks to those who've reviewed and decided to follow this story! Also, I should let you know that there is some swearing in this chapter (and it will probably get worse as things heat up *g*)

* * *

-o- PRIORITIES -o-

Andy tapped the other man's slack face none too gently. "Please be alive, please be alive," he mumbled to himself, because, truly, there was no one else there to hear him.

The emergency lights had started flickering after the lift had stopped moving, an ever so present reminder that, as dire as their situation was at the moment, it could always turn worse when those lights finally went out.

The smoke inside the lift was starting to make it hard to breathe and where his knees touched the rubber floor, Andy could feel it becoming unbearably hot. And Matt was lying on it. Still out cold.

Andy had no idea what to do. He couldn't make the climb out of the lift on his own, because there was no way he could reach the edge of the ceiling opening and hoist himself up (although he had already decided that, if –when- he got out of that mess, he was definitely joining a gym) and even if he could, that would mean that he would have to leave Matt behind.

He'd tried calling out for help, screaming his lungs out in hope that someone would be near enough to hear him. However, stuck midway in the elevator shaft of a 100 story high building, Andy was very aware of just how slim his chances were of someone catching his screams. Out of despair, Andy had even tried his cell phone, only to confirm that it was impossible to get any kind of reception in there.

God! And to think that just half an hour ago he was complaining about how miserable his life was because his boss was forcing him to work some over-time!

Suddenly feeling claustrophobic in his own clothes, Andy took off his jacket and opened a couple of buttons on his shirt. He felt clammy and sticky, heat and sheer panic clinging to his skin like they belonged there. He did not want to die in that place.

Andy looked up again. The ceiling opening was right there, a way out, _his way out_, an escape from dying like a smoked fish. Maybe if he pulled Matt under the opening and stood on top of him...

Just then the other man begun to stir. "Oh, thank fuck!" Andy let out in relief. "Are you okay? Stupid question, of course you're not okay. I'm not okay! Can you stand? I really need you to stand because otherwise I can't reach the damn opening and we'll both die like over-cooked lobsters in here and I really, really hate lobs—" Andy bit down the rest of the words pouring out of his mouth as Matt suddenly changed color from chalk-pale to kind of green-pale.

Quickly turning the other man to the other side, mostly so that the mess wouldn't hit him, Andy supported him as Matt puked his stomach contents on the slightly tilted floor, watching in fascination as the mess rolled away from them.

Afterwards, Matt just lay there, panting slightly as he tried to catch his breath, his eyes closed. "Gabby is gonna kill me," he whispered to himself with a dry chuckle.

Andy bit into his nails. Could people go insane if they banged their heads hard enough? Because right then, it kind of sounded like Matt had lost his. "I don't think you'll have to worry about that," he said, urgency seeping into his voice. "Not if we stay here much longer. Can you stand?"

It was quite clear that all Matt wanted at the moment was to stay right where he was, scalding floor and all. "Gimme a hand up," Matt asked, holding out his arm.

Andy almost whooped in joy, pulling the other man to his feet with a sudden surge of strength. They were finally on the move!

Getting up that fast, however, didn't appear to be the smartest thing for someone who'd been unconscious up until sixty seconds before. Matt sagged against Andy, both struggling to remain upright in a box that was, in itself, tilted. Not an easy feat.

"I'm good," Matt whispered faintly, sounding anything but 'good'. "You can let go now."

Andy did, hands still in reach of the other man. If Matt hit the floor a second time, Andy was afraid the whole lift would plunge down with him.

Matt took a couple of deep breaths through his nose, his eyes closing with each inspiration. "Let's get you out of here," he let out, sounding stronger as he laced his fingers together and locked his legs in place.

Andy wasted no time second-guessing the firefighter. Using Matt's shoulders for balance, Andy placed one foot on his hands and felt himself being pushed up faster than he'd been expecting. Freed of the bolts, however, the ceiling opening easily gave away when his head collided with it.

Supported by Matt below and with his elbows supporting some of his weight over the opening, Andy tried to pull himself up. He had heard about how adrenaline gave people surges of extra strength, allowing them to perform impossible deeds that they later had no recollection about; right then, however, all Andy could feel was his muscles trembling like jelly and on the verge of turning into muck. Tears of frustration threatened his eyes as Andy struggled to pull himself out of the lift and failed time after time.

"Hold tight!" Matt yelled from above, just seconds before the support that was keeping Andy from falling back into the elevator disappeared.

Andy yelped in surprise and fear, despite the warning. The sensation of dangling in vacuum was short lived, fortunately, as he felt Matt's shoulders under the soles of his shoes, shoving him up.

In seconds, Andy found himself on the roof of the elevator, surrounded by cables and black walls. It was even more claustrophobic than the elevator's car had become.

A sound like a crackling growl was coming from below them. Unable to resist his curiosity, Andy took a quick look over the side of the lift, trying to gauge how far up they still were and how bad it really was. Even as he leaned, Andy knew that was a mistake.

A blast of hot air hit him in the face, making his eyes instantly tear up. It was impossible to see the ground, in part because they were still pretty far up, but mostly because all he could see beneath the elevator was fire.

"Oh, God!"

"Andy," Matt's voice, muffled beneath the roar of the fire and the gushing sound of blood in Andy's ears, came from inside the lift. "Little help here, buddy?"

Cursing himself for being a selfish bastard, Andy hurried back to the elevator's opening. Matt actually smiled when he saw him there. "What do I do?"

"Lay down on your stomach and try to hook one of your legs on one of the cables," Matt instructed.

The ceiling of the elevator was almost as hot as the floor had been, but Andy tried to ignore that as he got down. His arms dangled over the opening as he tried to hook his right foot on the first thing he'd managed to blinding grope. "Ready!"

Matt wasted no time as soon as Andy gave him the go-ahead. He gave a small jump, hands clasping Andy's forearms with a tight grip.

The sound of a small box falling from Matt's jacket was muffled by Andy's yelp. With sweat pouring into his eyes and his vision swimming exhaustion, Andy could still see the little white box in the middle of the black rubber floor of the elevator. It looked a lot like a ring case.

"Goddamit!" Matt let out as he followed Andy's gaze down.

Before Andy could even open his mouth to say anything, Matt had let go of his grip and fallen back into the elevator.

Andy screamed as the whole lift lurched down a few inches, metal scrapping against metal, groaning in protest as it did. He almost followed Matt down, his balance precarious even before the other man's foolish actions. Instinctively, Andy used his foot, hooked around one of the cables, to keep himself from plunging down head first.

When he felt the cable losing tension and snapping around his leg with a stab of hot pain, Andy knew they were screwed even before the elevator started to drop.


	5. Ups and downs

AN: Many, many thanks to those who've reviewed!

-o- Ups and downs -o-

Dawson had lingered behind, closing the horde of people going down the steps as fast as they could. '_De bajada todos los santos ayudan_'', her grandma used to say, but even with all the saints helping them going down, those were still a buck load of steps.

She had gotten rid of her high heels as soon as they got to the service stairs and slowly but surely, every other woman had followed her example. A couple of men too.

Heel straps and purse looped around one hand, Gabby grabbed her phone with the other. She'd already placed a call to Central, just one more alert to the alarm they'd already received, but at least they had been able to reassure her that two Firehouses were already on location. Firehouse 51 and 65 had reported heavy smoke coming from the ground floors and Dawson had been instructed to not let those people go past the 8th floor. From there, they would be able to evacuate them.

That part out of her hands, at least until they reached the lower floors, Dawson had dialed Matt's number. Deep down, she already knew that something was amiss. The fact that he hadn't tried to call her yet had been a big clue, but the pre-recorded message that she got saying that Matt's cell was currently out of service had made her blood run cold inside her veins.

Gabby forced herself to follow everyone else down, wait a few more floors before she tried his phone again. He was probably just driving through some tunnel with no reception. Three floors after, she tried again, only to get the same pre-recorded message.

Dawson stopped. Her gut told her that Matt was somewhere inside the building. She was sure of that, she could feel it just beneath her skin, much in the same way that she could feel that he was in trouble.

-o-

Andy rolled out of control on top of the elevator as the car, supported only by one of the cables, banked severely to one side. It was pure, sheer dumb luck that it angled towards the wall instead of the other opposite side, or Andy would've found himself free falling towards hell.

Resisting the urge to just stay put and grab onto the illusion of safety now that everything had stopped moving, Andy looked around. The roof opening had been bent out of shape and there was a smear of blood all the way from the misshaped panels to where he lay. The left leg of his pants was ripped open, the edges of the dark fabric wet and clinging to his skin. He couldn't feel a thing.

"Andy?" a voice called out from far, far away. "Andy, you still there?"

Matt. The stranger who had become his trench companion in a battle that seemed to be going on for decades.

Andy dragged himself over to the mangled remains of the ceiling panel, praying that the change of weight wouldn't be the last straw to send the whole thing crashing down. Upon reaching the opening, face drenched in sweat, Andy felt tempted to join Matt inside the elevator. Just for the tiniest of moments, just to reassure his racing heart that he hadn't completely lost his mind and still had an ounce of self-preservation.

Sure, the elevator was about to fall into the raging flames below, but at least inside he wouldn't have to see the unstable cable about to give out or the orange glow of death waiting for them.

Ignorance is bliss or out of sight, out of mind... some shit like that.

"You're alive!" Matt let out, a mix of pure joy, relief and surprise in his voice. "You're one hell of a lucky dog, I'll give ya that!"

Andy's leg chose that particular moment to start throbbing with gusto. "Yeah, that's me," he replied, sarcasm dripping from his words. "Lucky as puppy."

-o-

Matt's head hurt. No, that didn't quite describe the screwdriver slowly making its way from his eyes to the center of his brain. Matt's head was in _agony_! Yes... that sentiment managed to come closer.

In any other place and situation, Matt would be really worried about that. The same way he knew he should be worried about the fact that his vision was blurry and that the ringing in his ears was simply not going away.

But as it were, he was currently trapped inside an elevator that, given his best guess, was off kilter by some 30 degrees, at the very least. Even without the fire, Matt knew that those elevator cables weren't meant to support that kind of strain. The thing was going down and if he didn't do something fast, a fresh concussion would be the least of his worries.

Diving back inside the elevator to grab the ring case had been a very stupid thing to do, Matt was well aware of that now. At the time, he hadn't stopped to think.

The ring had been bought weeks ago and carefully stored in Matt's locker at work, so that there would be no risk of Gabby finding it by chance.

It was just a ring, but from the moment he and Shay had agreed that it was the perfect ring for Dawson, it had become _her_ ring, even if she was still ignorant of its existence. Matt's first and only instinct had been to make sure it was safe.

In doing so, he had ended up risking his life and, what was worse, the life of the man trapped with him. If anything had happened to Andy because of his foolish actions, Matt knew he would never be able to forgive himself. How on Earth could he ever face Andy's wife and kids again and tell them that Andy had died because of a ring?

Matt closed his eyes in pain. That wasn't right, was it? Matt knew nothing about the Andy he'd met in the elevator that night, when he'd been on his way to meet Dawson. And the Andy who had been married and a father... that Andy was dead, killed on the job, over a year ago.

"Andy?" he called out, needing to see that the man was still alive and that his face had nothing to do with the Andy Matt had lost. "Andy, you still there?"

The face that peeked from the twisted opening in the ceiling was too blurry for Matt to distinguish more than a mouth and two dark eyes. The mouth and eyes, however, were definitely Andy's. "You're alive!"

God! All that time, believing that Andy was gone and here he was, the bastard. "You're one hell of a lucky dog, I'll give ya that!" Matt let out, his face opening in a genuine smile despite the circumstances.

The circumstances, Matt figured, were the reason why Andy gave him such a sarcastic answer. He was right, of course. Time was running out for both of them. "How does it look up there?"

Andy bit his lip, a habit that Matt didn't remember him having. "Horrible? Scary as hell? Take a pick."

Matt resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was pretty sure even that would make his head hurt worse. "I was looking for a bit more details."

"Humm... there's a big assed fire below us, about 30 floors down," Andy said, counting their dooms by his fingers. "One of the elevator' cables snapped, the one left is making some pretty awful sounds and my leg is killing me. Should I keep going?"

Matt shook his head slowly. That didn't sound good. There was also a 30 degrees incline to the elevator's floor, making the ceiling appear impossibly far away. "I can't reach the opening," Matt said, adding one more 'doom' to Andy's four raised fingers.

Andy gave him another funny look. "Jump, like you did before."

Matt blinked. Andy had always been one to jump without looking, something that more often than not would get him in trouble, but surely he could see the enormous risk they would be taking if Matt jumped and Andy failed to catch him. "Can't," Matt decided to point it out anyway. "If I jump and miss, the force of the fall will take the elevator down for sure. We'll both die!"

Matt ran his fingers through his short hair, sweat and blood sticking to them. It was too moronic and selfish to risk Andy's life any further because Matt had made one stupid choice. They left no one behind, but damn, if it was a choice between the both of them dying and Andy getting back to his family... "Maybe you should just go..."

Andy banged his head against the edge of the opening and Matt winced in sympathy. "Not gonna happen," Andy said, stubbornly as always. "Besides, I'll never be able to get out without you. So... you're the fire guy," he said. "What do I do?"

Matt frowned. Andy was as much a firefighter as he was. Why would he say such a thing?

The clear image of Andy being engulfed by flames flashed behind Matt's eyes, making him gasp in pain. Where the hell had that come from?

"Shit! Hey! Hey! You okay?" Andy's voice cut through the haze of memories that couldn't be real and images that were too detailed to be otherwise.

"Yeah," Matt whispered, pulling himself back up. He couldn't remember falling to his knees. "I'm fine. Just..." Focus on the task, Matt told himself. He looked around, searching for something that they could use to get him out of there before Andy's stubbornness in staying got him killed.

His eyes landed on a heap of fabric, rolled into a corner. Picking it up, Matt realized that he was holding a jacket. "This might do," he said to himself, testing the strength of the stitching. "You're gonna have to pull me up, Andy."

A look of panic crossed the other man's eyes, but he ended up nodding. What other choice did either of them had?


	6. Brothers

AN: Sorry that took longer than expected. Not much longer for the conclusion of this story now, though :)

As always, my gratitude goes out to the wonderful people who were so kind to let me know their thoughts on this story! Have fun!

-o- Brothers -o-

Each Fire House was a family in itself, but that didn't mean for one second that firefighters from different houses were anything but brothers in arms. They had, after all, the same common passion for saving lives and the same deep understanding that each shift could be their last. It was something that almost came with the gear.

Herrmann, having switch shifts because of a parents' meeting at his kids' school that Cindy hadn't been able to attend, had a bad feeling about that particular call as soon as he jumped out of trunk 81. Skyscrapers on fire were always a bitch to get under control and, even though he trusted his fellow firefighters from 1st watch in equal terms, it just wasn't the same as working with Lt. Casey and the guys. These were his brothers too, granted, but the guys in his team were like extensions of himself.

When the warning came from dispatch that there was one of them inside, a Gabriela Dawson from Firehouse 51, Herrmann had felt his heart drop south and land somewhere between his boots.

He looked up at the smoking building, the orange glow of flames already licking the air behind the windows of the first floors, a power keg waiting to go off. "Jesus, Dawson, what the hell...?"

Fighting against the urge to rush into the burning building and look for the sassy paramedic, Herrmann looked at his current lieutenant for orders. "Please say search and rescue of top floors, please say search and rescue of top floors..." he whispered to himself, wondering if there was any time to call Casey and warn him of what was happening to his girl.

After having coordinated with the other Lieutenants in order to evacuate the tenants' side of the building, it was up to his crew to make sure there was no one left in the various business floors and servicing elevators. "Okay... Silva, Pfeifer, Smith, Bowman, Trout and Herrmann, you guys start on the first floor, check those elevators and sweep the building towards 50. The rest of you, you're with me," Lt. Morrison said, looking at the remaining group. "We know that Dawson from 51 will be leading a group of people from the restaurant at the top floor down to the 8th floor. House 65 will be in charge of making sure they get out safely. Our job," he said, picking up his mask, "is making sure that no one is left behind between 50 and the top floor. Let's go!"

Herrmann jumped to action, his anxiety easing up a inch at the lieutenant's words. He wasn't twenty anymore and the prospect of going up 50 floors in full gear was not something even twenty year old would be eager to do. And even though house 65 would be the one taking care of Dawson and her flock, he could at least make sure for himself that she was okay as he passed by 8th.

As soon as they got inside the building, a wall of heat fell on the them, making each and every firefighter grateful for the heavy gear that they were carrying and that allowed them to keep on breathing. Herrmann just wished that someone would remember to invent some kind of sweepers or something for the sweat running down his face. Come to think of it... he could look into that. Later.

"Trout, Silva, deal with the elevators," their lieutenant called out. "The rest of you, start climbing!"

"Elevator 1 is on fire," Silva shouted over the comm. "If there was anyone in there, they're long gone."

"Elevator 2 is stuck midway between 41 and 40," Trout pointed out, knowing that the team swiping the floors, listening in, would check the lift's car when they got to 41. "We need to cut the power," he added, already racing to the panel. The last thing they needed was for that elevator to join the other in a blaze of flames, especially if there was somebody inside.

Silva stood still, looking at the red digits that told them where the elevators were at, waiting for the lights to go out and signal that Trout had already cut the power. As he watched, the number that had been dancing from 41 to 40 flickered and changed, going from 41 to 35 in seconds just before the power went off. "Shit!"

"What?" Trout asked, joining him.

"I don't think that elevator is gonna be up much longer," Silva pointed out gloomy. "Guys, someone needs to haul ass to 35, like... right NOW!"

-o-

The sleeve of the their impromptu rope dangled at an odd angle from the ceiling opening, Andy's anxious expression at the other end of the fragile looking fabric not making it any easier to believe that it would work.

With a silent prayer to some deity that he wasn't sure he believed anymore, Matt pushed off his feet and grabbed the edge of the sleeve. His head protested against the sudden change in position and black spots danced at the edge of his vision. He stood quiet for a few seconds, catching his breath as he dangled in mid air, hoping against hope that his body wouldn't choose that exact moment to betray him.

"Hurry the hell up!" Andy's voice sounded strained, barely audible with the effort of supporting all 190 plus pounds of firefighter in his hands.

Matt ignored his body and followed Andy's voice. It could almost be described as one of those mind-over-matter things, if it still counted when it was Andy's mind over Matt's matter. The muscles on his back protested and spasmed all the way to his neck as he pulled himself up, inch by torturous inch until his fingers brushed against the edge of the opening.

He could feel Andy's hands all over his clothes, grasping and pulling blindly. Matt helped as much as he could, but by the time he dropped next to Andy he was out of breath and his vision had narrowed down to a slim stripe of black and white image. A film noir, framed by an orange glow fire.

"Okay... okay," Andy sounded as out of breathe as Matt felt. "I can see the door up there. I think we ca—"

-o-

The remaining cable, strained beyond any hope of feasibility, snapped, white sparkles flying from the wall as it collided with it with a whip lashing sound.

The elevator car dropped abruptly, no warning other than the scrapping of metal against metal, mechanical claws trying to fight gravity before the pull became too much.

Andy opened his mouth to scream, even though nothing but air came rushing out. He grappled around blindly, survival instinct telling him that if he didn't hold on to something, _anything_, he was dead.

There was no point, though. The whole structure was falling and anything he could grasp was condemned to same downward voyage. In lieu of salvation, Andy grabbed on to the only source of comfort he could have in his death. The other man dying by his side.

-o-

For a split of a moment, Matt, already nauseous from the effort of climbing out, thought that the falling sensation was just inside his head. His hands flew to the sides, trying to hold on to something that would help him set apart up from down before he lost the fight with his stomach again.

The reality of what was really happening arrived with sharp lucidity.

They were in free fall in microseconds, cables hissing and snapping like snakes around them. Matt could feel Andy's hands, holding onto his shirt.

When his fingers brushed against a random cable, Matt didn't think about the effect of attrition between fast falling limbs and motionless metal. He just wrapped his hand around it and latched on as hard as he could.

Matt grunted, closing his eyes against the pain. Metal sliced his palm open, hot knife going through butter, cutting so deeply that the firefighter feared that his fingers would fall off and they would both die.

By some miracle, when Matt managed to stop their downward momentum, his fingers were still attached to his hand and, what was more important to him at that very moment, Andy was still grabbing on to his shirt.

"Not letting you die, Andy," he whispered, his voice hoarse from the smoke and pain. "Not again."


	7. Rescue

Sorry about the delay, vacations got in the way ;)

As always, my deepest thanks to all the amazing people who gave their attention to this little story!

-o- RESCUE -o-

As soon as they heard the warning about the elevator in danger of falling down, Herrmann grabbed a couple of younger guys and raced up the stairs. He was still getting use to his new rank as a lieutenant, but when duty called, the experienced fire fighter was grateful that his years on the job were enough for him to put his self-doubt aside and at least pretend he knew what he was doing.

On the radio, they could hear the reports from the other teams as they stumbled across stray victims inside the building. A cleaning crew of three found on the fifth floor, a couple of late workers on the seventh and tenth...

The team from House 65 had already reached the arranged meeting point on 8th, reported the floor empty and pushed forward to meet Dawson's group halfway.

Herrmann and his group where closing in on the 25th floor when he heard one report that put his heart at ease, quickly followed by something that made him taste bile in his mouth.

Peterson, from 65, announced that he had a group of twenty people coming down with them, Gabriela Dawson included, all in good health, even if more than a little spooked.

The loud bang that followed stopped everyone on the spot.

"81, 65, report!" The battalion chief on location yelled on the comm., his demanding tone laced with deep concern. "Lieutenant Morrison, Lieutenant Peterson, report!"

-o-

Herrmann could feel his heart pounding inside his ears. "You guys okay?" he checked with two kids with him. At their nod, he turned his attention to the chatter going on between the rest of the teams and the battalion chief.

"_...cloud of dust..._"

"_...need to evacuate Silva..._"

"_...structure intact..._"

"_...moving to check the elevator..._"

"Not a bomb?" Smith asked. Barely older than Mills, it was easy to spot the anxiety and fear in his voice.

Herrmann shook his head. If anything had blown up inside the building, the chief would've given the order for them to fall back and evacuate. He hadn't, so it had to be something else.

His best guess was that the unstable elevator they were racing to reach had just lost its battle with gravity. Herrmann shuddered at the thought.

Six years on the job, they had gotten a call to a building with a faulty elevator. Years of rust and absolutely no maintenance had corroded the elevator's cables to the point where they simply snapped. They had been too late to stop the elevator from dropping all the way to the basement from the fifth floor. The mess they had picked up from inside the twisted metal afterwards could hardly be called human. Herrmann had never been able to eat hamburgers ever since.

On the other hand, if that had been in fact the sound of the elevator crashing, then there was no much point of going any further. "Hey, chief, Herrmann here," he called on the comm.. "Can we get a confirmation on the location of the elevator still unaccounted for?"

-o-

Andy looked down, watching in fascination as the elevator's car bumped against the walls a couple of times before disappearing into the flames. The deafening sound as it hit the ground was like a loud explosion, making his teeth rattle inside his mouth.

A vicious serpent of fire erupted from below in the wake of the sound, snapping its fiery teeth at them like a hungry beast looking for lunch. It raced up and up and just as Andy was sure that it was going to snap its jaws around them, the fireball dissipated into smoke and embers, nothing but a blast of heated air reaching them.

"Don't look down, Andy. Eyes on me, man!"

It was easier said than done. The promise down below of certain death was starting to look more appealing than the false hope of rescue from above. Matt's hold on the cable was slipping, Andy could feel it as they slowly inched down, one bloody bit by one bloody bit. Somewhere inside the building, he was sure that there were people being rescued, that there were people fighting the fire. Trapped in that dark pit, Andy knew their chances of actually being rescued were dimmer than anyone else's. And that hurt more than the prospect of falling down, knowing that salvation was so close and yet so out of reach.

"Andy, don't lose it on me now," Matt's voice came from above, cutting through the loud sound of Andy's agitated, uncontrolled breaths. The fireman sounded so calm and compose that it hardly seemed like he was dangling from a broken cable over a raging fire just like Andy.

"Oh, I think now's about the PERFECT TIME TO FUCKING LOSE IT!" Andy screamed at the top of his lungs. Had he been any closer to the wall, he would've kicked it too, for effect. "WE'RE GONNA DIE IN HERE! FUCK! I'M GONNA DIE IN HERE!"

"Andy, you need to calm down, right now," Matt warned him, his voice stern and angry. "We've come this far, I'm not giving up now, and neither are you!"

Andy resisted the urge to take a deep breath, knowing that that would only fill his lungs with more smoke. He wanted to shout and tell that stranger he had only met minutes before to go to hell and leave him to have his nervous break down in peace and quiet.

"Look at me, Andy."

Despite his best resolve, Andy found himself following Matt's instruction.

"See that silver glow just a couple of feet below us?"

Andy looked down, nodding when he saw it. The elevator's doors.

"I'm going to swing us and you are going to slide a bit down and open those doors, okay?"

Andy shook his head, grabbing onto Matt's harder. "I can't... I CAN'T!"

"Sure you can, Andy," Matt said reassuringly. "We've done it thousands of times in training, you've always aced it! Come on, man! Do it for Heather and the kids!

Those words, more than anything else, put an end to Andy's freak out. That guy... he had been trusting what Matt said, doing everything he told him to do, putting his life in his hands, confident that the man knew what he was doing... and he was freaking hallucinating?!

"What the hell are you on about?" Andy hissed, angry mostly with himself for not having caught it sooner. "I didn't trained with you, I have no idea who Heather is and I DON'T HAVE ANY FRIGGING KIDS! YOU FUCKING LUNATIC!"

-o-

Matt struggled to hear what Andy was saying over the pounding inside his head. With such a precarious hold keeping the both of them from falling down, his first and only priority had been to find them an alternative. Spotting those doors so close at hand had been heaven-sent. All he had to do was swing the cable just a little bit and trust Andy to do the rest.

Andy, however, kept on screaming, completely ignoring the instructions that could yet save their lives. From the angry look on his face, bringing up Heather and the kids hadn't been the right move at all.

Matt blinked, driving away the black spots that threatened to shut down the world around him. He just needed to hold on for a little bit longer, get Andy to safety and back to his family, whether he wanted it or not.

Swinging a metal cable was harder than it sounded, especially with his strength fading as fast as it was. The fact that Andy was struggling against his movement at every step of the way wasn't helping matters either.

"Stop that!" Matt yelled. "Are you insane?"

The furious laughter that erupted from below was the scariest sound Matt had ever heard.

-o-

"Chief just confirmed," Herrmann reported. "The elevator we were supposed to check out crashed down below, thankfully empty. The floors above are clear, we should head back down."

The sooner they got out, the sooner the rest of the guys could turn on the really big hoses and kick this fire in the nuts. As far as he was concerned, Herrmann was going to stamp this one as a victory. No casualties reported, all victims accounted for and out of harms way and Dawson safe and sound outside of the burning building. And he'd even had a great idea for a future investment, with the helmet wipers deal...

"Herrmann! Herrmann!"

Hearing his name, Herrmann turned around and promptly cursed. "Dawson! What the hell?!"

The young paramedic's face was glistening with sweat, her fancy dress ruined by a tear on its side. "Herrmann, thank god!"

"Gabriela, what the hell are you still doing here?" he asked, the fatherly tone coming as second nature. "You were suppose to be outside, you know... SAFE! How the hell did you even—"

"I can't find Matt," she cut through his speech, her eyes filling with fat tears. "Herrmann... he's... I can't find him..."

Only then did the fancy dress and the ruined makeup running down Dawson's face registered with Herrmann for what it really was. Of course she was there for a date with the lieutenant! "Crap!"

"Herrmann, we need to find him," she begged him. "I can't get him on the phone and I have this feeling..."

Herrmann sighed, looking between the distressed paramedic and the two junior guys waiting for his decision. He had lived with Cindy long enough to learn never to dismiss a woman's sixth sense, but he couldn't exactly tell the chief that they were doing one more sweep of the floors based on a hunch.

"Look, are you sure that—"

"Shhhh! Everyone shut up," one of the kids called out. He removed his helmet, closing his eyes in concentration. "Can any one else hear that?"

Herrmann nodded. Someone was shouting. And it was coming from the elevator shaft.


	8. Losing my mind

-o-LOSING MY MIND-o-

"Eric," Boden greeted the other battalion chief as he exited his car. The place was surrounded by barely controlled chaos as firefighters, paramedics and police officers moved in an elaborate dance, as they rushed to save the people coming out of the building. "What's the situation here?"

Chief Eric Raglund, from Firehouse 65, looked at his long time colleague and friend. Usually, there would only one battalion chief present at the scene, but Eric knew perfectly well why his friend was there. He would be too, if it were his people in there. "Fire started to get into the structure after the elevator car broke down. We had to evacuate one of the men who'd been too close to the shaft when the whole thing blew out," he started. "Floors one to five are ablaze. We are evacuating victims through the windows of the eighth floor into the aerials and we have four paramedic teams with a triage post set on the other side of the street."

Boden nodded, satisfied. Raglund was a straight up kind of guy, his work ethics running along the same lines as Boden's. It was clear that he had the situation well under control.

Boden's dark eyes meandered through the victims scattered across the different triage areas in the square in front of the tall building. He tried telling himself that he was assessing the need to activate any more medical responders, but in truth he was searching for familiar faces. Dawson having called dispatch earlier, had been confirmed as being inside the building. That in itself was reason enough for him to worry. It was, however, the absence of any reference to Matt that was beginning to concern the chief.

Casey had told him about his plans for that night. He had even asked for the next shift off so that he and Gabriela could go away and celebrate. Boden could relate, hell! he had even been in the kid's shoes a couple of weeks before. So, why was there no mention of Casey being with Dawson when she called?

He couldn't see any of them amongst the sooth-covered people being tended by the paramedics, but looking across the street, he could spot a familiar looking vehicle. Matt's construction truck.

"Are all the building's occupants accounted for?" Boden asked, knowing that by now the teams would've reported a head count. "All visitors and vehicle owners checked?"

Raglund gave him a look that Wallace knew all too well. "Who exactly are you looking for? Anyone you know inside?"

Wallace looked up, studying the flames starting to breech the windows and hungrily seeking more fuel to feed. Already in a few of them he could see the smoke starting to turn darker and darker. "I hope not," he said, his voice heavy with sorrow, "because we have about five minutes before we're forced to call those men out. That smoke's gonna turn black real quick."

-o-

Herrmann took out one of his gloves and touched the metal panels on the elevator's door on the 35th floor. "Its cold enough for me," he informed the others. "Opening it now," he called out, pushing his key into the emergency opening lock.

The doors opened with a soft hiss, a faint cloud of dark smoke seeping out almost immediately. Thankful for the mask on his face that prevented him from breathing in those toxic fumes, Herrmann lay down on the floor and looked inside the elevator shaft. He could see the one of wires from the broken elevator dangling in the middle of the long tunnel and the other one stiff as a rod. There had to be something on the other end of that, and he knew for a certainly that it was an elevator's car. "Fire department, call out!" he yelled.

Two voices answered in tandem, making his blood run cold.

"Herrmann!"

"Help! Get me away from this lunatic!"

Dawson, coerced to be as far from the elevator doors as they could make her due to her lack of gear, jumped from her place as soon as she heard Casey's voice. "Matt!"

Herrmann stopped her from moving any closer with one look. No matter how much they both cared about the lieutenant, safety would always have to come first. Reassured that she would behave and allow them to do their job, the firefighter returned his attention to two firefighters with him, Smith and Bowman. "Get me two secure lines, now!"

He quickly took off his heavy jacket and mask, making himself as light and moveable as he could, before turning his attention back to the elevator shaft.

He peeked down, turning his flashlight on, finally getting a glimpse of the two men. One of Casey's hands was holding onto the elevator's cable, while the other was wrapped around a man's waist, fingers grasping the hem of his pants. The other guy had his arms wrapped around Casey's chest, his face white as chalk.

Accessing the situation, Herrmann quickly realized that there was no way he could simply throw down a line and hope that the lieutenant would be able to loop it around anyone. Casey was barely holding on as it was.

Herrmann would have to go down himself. "Hey, lieutenant, how're you holding up?" he called out, regretting his poor choice of words as soon as they left his mouth.

Four feet below, Matt let out a dry laugh, quickly followed by a coughing fit strong enough to rattle the metal cable.

"Sorry about that," Herrmann mumbled. "Hey, what's the civilian's name?"

The answers came once again in chorus.

"Andrew... I'm Andrew Manner."

"Andy's not a civilian, he's one of us! _Our_ Andy"

Something in Casey's voice made Herrmann taste bile in his mouth. He wasn't sure if it was the out of place happiness or the simple longing, but something was definitely wrong. _Our_ Andy, as 51 saw it, had died over a year ago, something that Matt was painfully aware, more so than most, since he had actually seen it happen.

"Please, _please_ get me out of here!" Andy's voice traveled up the shaft. "This guy isn't right in the head!"

The words stung, mainly because there was no way to prove them wrong. First, however, they had to fish the both of them from that death trap.

"Lines are secure, sir," Bowman announced, hooking the yellow rope to Herrmann's security harness.

"Five minutes, everyone," Raglund's voice announced over the com. "Fire's starting to get into the structure, so if you're high up, start hauling ass right now to the exit point on 8th!"

Herrmann, poised on the edge of the elevator's door opening, exchanged a look with Dawson.

"I'm not going anywhere, Herrmann," Gabby let out before the older man could even open his mouth to tell her to leave.

"I know you ain't," he said with a sigh. "But since you're here, you might as well help. We're gonna have to pull both of them at the same time." He then turned his voice to the com., letting the chief know about the insanity they were about to try. "Chief, Herrmann here," he started, pausing to take a deep breath. This was why he had never been envious of Casey or Severide's positions. He hated having to make tough calls. "We have two victims trapped inside the elevator shaft. I'm moving in to pull them out now."

"You have under three minutes before I give the call, Herrmann," Raglund's voice sounded strained. "Can you pull them out in that time?"

Herrmann tugged on his line, making sure that it was tight. "We have to try, sir," he answered for the four of them. He didn't know those kids from 65 all that well, but he was sure none of them could turn their backs on a victim and live with themselves. "Lieutenant Casey is down there," he added.

There was silence on the other side. When the com. came to life again, the voice on the other side was a deeper tone. "This is chief Boden here," he announced, pausing for so long that Herrmann was sure he was going to order them all out of there. If it came to that, he really, really did not want to disobey a direct order, but he would.

"Do your best, Christopher."

Herrmann gave one last look to Gaby's worried face before disappearing from view down the shaft.

The distance between the two dangling men and the door opening wasn't that much, but the heat and smoke inside the small space made it look twice as long. Herrmann reached Casey first.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, Herrmann," Matt let out, exhaustion making his words sound slightly slurred.

"Happy to drop by, lieutenant," Herrmann answered in good nature. He gave an appraising look at his lieutenant, wincing when he caught sight of the state of the hand Casey had wrapped around the cable. "Here, lemme put this arou—"

"Him first," Casey cut in, his voice suddenly stronger and leaving no room for an argument. "I can't hold on much longer," he added more gently.

"All due respect, lieutenant," Herrmann said as he wrapped one of the secure lines around Casey's waist anyway, "but this time around, I'm calling the shots."

With one man secured, Herrmann moved on quickly for the second one. "Hey Andrew," he called out, remembering the name the man had used. "I'm going to just wrap this rope around you and we'll have you out of here in no time. Sound good to you?"

The other man, terrified, could only nod as Herrmann made short work of wrapping the second line around him.

"Herrmann..."

The word was all but a whisper, but the experienced firefighter knew exactly what Casey was warning him about. "MAN THE LINE!" he yelled just seconds before Casey's figure went limp.

For half a second Herrmann panicked, imagining his friend and boss dropping lifeless past him into the fire. The people above, however, reacted just as fast as his warning had been shout. The line went rigid, a tug war between Smith and Dawson and the unconscious man on the other end. "Got him?" Herrmann asked.

"Got him!" Smith called from above.

"Good. You can let go of him now Andrew," Herrmann said, gently prying the other man's fingers from their dead grip on Casey's clothes. He had never been in such a situation, but he could only imagine how hard it was for the man to finally let go of the only lifeline he'd had up until now. "We got you."

As soon as Andrew let go of Casey, Dawson and Smith started pulling him up, leaving Bowman free to help Herrmann. "Okay, lets get you out of here."

Herrmann braced his feet against the wall and called out to Bowman to start pulling Andrew, while he 'walked' up the shaft and supported the victim from below. It wasn't exactly slow going, but knowing how fast they were running out of time, Herrmann felt like they were moving in slow motion. "Come on! Come on!"

-o-

Gabriela was sure her bottom lip was bloody, so hard was she biting on it. This was Antonio being shot all over again; this was _déjà vu _of Casey stumbling out of that burning building with a baby slipping from under his coat. And no matter how hard she told herself that emotions had to wait until she got them the help they needed, her emotions seemed to have no respect for her reasoning and ignored her all the way.

Her hands were shaking when she reached over to help slide Matt across the floor, her eyes already busy scanning him for injuries. He was a mess.

There was blood caking his forehead and his hands were swollen, fingers curled into themselves, a worrying sign of possible nerve damage. Dawson engrossed herself cataloging each bruise and scrape visible, all the while ignoring the one thing that her brain kept on screaming at her, over and over again: Matt was unconscious- Matt had another head injury- Matt could di—

"We need to move him," Herrmann's words broke through her spiraling thoughts, bringing her back to reality. She hadn't even noticed him exiting the elevator shaft supporting another man.

"What?! No!" she answered without thinking. "We don't have a neck brace, or a backboard, or even—"

"We're out of time, Gabby," Herrmann told her quietly. "Chief informed us that everyone else is out the building and..."

"And?" Gabriela pressed, even as her hands were busy pushing Matt's eyelids up and checking his pupils. They looked equal to her, but without her flashlight, it was impossible to know for sure.

Dawson tore her attention away from Matt when she realized that Christopher still hadn't spoken. She felt his hand on her bare shoulder, pulling her away.

"And... the bottom floors are completely lost," he whispered. The two firefighters with him had heard the same report on the radio as he had, but he didn't wanted for the one civilian present to panic. "We'll have to go up."

"What about the aerial?"

Herrmann shook his head. "Best those can reach is the 8th floor... too dangerous to risk it with the fire reaching the 7th already. We have no _choice_ but to go up."

Dawson nodded, her bottom lip once more suffering the consequences of her unease. Going up meant trapping themselves inside the building, with no way out until someone could come pick them up with air support.

"How are we getting out?" the man who had been with Matt asked, obviously having listened to their whispered conversation. He looked almost as bad as Matt, with half his face bruised and blood soaking his left leg from knee to ankle.

"Can you walk on that?" Dawson asked, kneeling down to have a better look. Through the tear in the jeans she could see layers of muscle ripped open in a gash about two inches long. Fortunately for the man, since she had no supplies with her, the wound was already clotting on its own.

"I just wanna get out of here," Andy let out, exhaustion in his every word. "I'll walk wherever you need me to walk, just as long as it's away from this damn place and that guy!" he said, pointing out towards Casey.

Gabriela frowned, wondering what the hell was that guy's problem with Matt.

"Chief," Herrmann called out on the com. "we have two injured victims with us. We'll be needing an exit point on the roof," he informed grimly.

The pause on the other side was ominous. "Copy that, Herrmann," Raglund said after a beat. "We'll let you know as soon as rescue is in place."

Herrmann took a breath, his eyes covering the group of people with him. "Alright!" he called out, taking charge. "Smith, you take point. Dawson, you help Andrew up those stairs. Bowman, you and me will carry the lieuten—"

Gabriela's gasp stopped Herrmann from saying anything else.

"I can walk."

-o-

Slowly, Matt's battered body realized that he was lying down, no longer suspended from an impossible height, supporting both his weight and the responsibility of keeping another human being alive.

The 'why's and 'how's of what was going on and how that had come to happen weren't all that clear but he couldn't make himself worry about any of that at the moment. There was a soft hand in his and, even without opening his eyes to check, Matt knew with all the certainty in the world that it was Gaby's.

Herrmann's voice was echoing somewhere in the background, the words jumbled and losing sense every now and then. He was talking about moving somewhere else, about moving _him_ somewhere else.

His hand clutched Gaby's as he opened his eyes. The emergency lights were on, a dim lit glow that made everything look unfocused and pasty. "I can walk," he blurt out, no pause to consider how his head was killing him, no moment to doubt if he could even stand.

Even though he wasn't certain of what the situation was, Matt knew that something serious was going on and that Herrmann was there to get the job done. Why he wasn't wearing his gear was something of a mystery, but the strong sense of urgency and the feeling that something was terribly wrong that had been with him ever since he regained consciousness were awfully familiar.

"Matt!" Gabriela let out, her hand moving from his to touch his face. Her fingers felt cold against his skin. "How're you feeling, babe?"

"I'm good."

The automatic answer didn't seem to convince or impress any of the people present who already knew Casey.

"Yeah, I bet you are," Herrmann voiced, the sarcasm in his words coming out loud and clear. He picked up his mask and handed it to Gaby. "We need to get moving. Stick close to my tank and use this mask on him if he needs it, okay? Let's get him up and moving!"

Gabriela nodded, taking one side as Herrmann took the other. "Nice and easy, okay?" She whispered in Matt's ear before pushing up. Between the three of them, they managed to get Matt up straight.

Casey closed his eyes tightly, fighting the urge to vomit, as all the blood seemed to rush out from his head.

"Matt? Matt, you with us?"

Matt squeezed Gaby's shoulder, not trusting his voice just yet. When the feeling of having his head filled with nothing but rustling wind abated somewhat, Matt risked opening his eyes again. "Hey, guys... where's Andy?" he asked with a frown. "Didn't you guys pulled him out?"

Five pairs of confused eyes stared at him. Matt resisted the urge to call them all idiots, because while they stood there looking puzzled, Andy was still in that elevator shaft.

Matt took one step towards the elevator's doors, resolved to check for himself, only to have Gaby and Herrmann restrain him. He looked at his girlfriend pleadingly, failing to understand why she was fighting him on this. She knew Andy. She knew how important the man was to Casey. "Gaby..."

"Babe, Andrew is right there," she voiced, her eyes tearing up as she met his gaze. "Is that who you're talking about?"

Matt followed Gaby's head nod. There was a man being supported by a firefighter, his left leg in the air, small droplets of blood falling to the floor. He had never seen either man before. "No! I'm talking about Andy! Our Andy! I can't believe you just left him there!"

"Told you," Andrew let out. "Fucking crazy!"

-o-


	9. Science and Fiction

-o- Science and fiction –o-

Gabriela wiped the tears from her eyes angrily. The mental confusion allied with the obvious head injury made it impossible for her to keep denying the obvious. Matt's brain had been compromised. Again.

She felt like kicking something, hard. It seemed like the Universe had waited until the two of them were together to do its best to pull them apart by killing Matt, and that was so unbelievably unfair that she couldn't even believe it. It was too cruel, to show her a glimpse of true happiness only to snatch it away.

"Matt, honey, Andy Darden has been dead for over a year now," she said quietly, taking hold of his hands. They felt sweaty and cold, alarmingly cold for the temperature that was starting to build up on the floor they were. "You went to his funeral, you took care of his kids when Heather was in prison. Do you remember all that?"

The look of lost and confusion in Matt's eyes broke her heart. "He's not down there?"

"No, you lunatic, the only one down there with you, was me!" Andrew yelled, his face red. "I could've died in there, following the instructions of a guy who isn't right on the head!"

"Shut up!"

"Enough of that!"

Dawson and Herrmann looked at each other as they spoke in one voice, both having realized what was really going on and what that guy was clearly missing.

Dawson took a step away from Matt, hopeful that he had lost the willingness to jump back into that hole in search of a ghost, and walked to Andrew.

Inside her mind, Gabriela was reminding herself that Andrew did not share the same medical knowledge she and the firefighters were obliged to possess, that he was far from knowing the kind of man Matt was, and how much he did not deserved what was happening to him.

She reminding herself that it would do them no good if she chewed the civilian's head off for the idiocy he was spewing out of his ignorant mouth because he had no idea how much it hurt to hear him speak like that of someone like Matt. "Sir," she started quietly, pausing for a breath. "That man over there is suffering from a head injury, one that might be serious if you are telling us that he has been confusing you for some other person or talking with someone who wasn't there. So," she paused again, her hands turning into fists as she realized how bad the facts sounded when she put them into words. "So... we are going to start moving and you are going to tell us everything that has happened since you two stepped into that elevator ride, so that I can better assess his injury, okay?"

Andrew, who had grown red in face as soon as she had mentioned 'serious head injury', could only nod.

"Good... so, start at the beginning."

-o-

Severide had received at least four different calls alerting him that, no only was there a big fire in one of Chicago's tallest skyscrapers, but also that two of his best friends were probably amongst the victims. Dawson and Casey seemed to have a grim propensity to find the worse possible kind of trouble, even when they were off duty. What other couple could manage to get involved in a terrorist bombing attack _and_ a major fire, all in the same year?

By the time he had parked his car and raced to where he could see Boden, Severide's mind had already gone through every possible and catastrophic scenario. They had been 'lucky' with the hospital bombing, with Dawson having suffered nothing more than a mild concussion. Luck, however, was something that had a tendency to run out.

"Chief!" he called out, his heart clotting his throat and making it hard to voice what he needed to know.

"They are alive," Boden answered, guessing the pleading question in Severide's blue eyes. "Herrmann called in that they managed to pull Casey and another man from the elevator shaft and that Dawson is with them."

Severide sighed in relief before he registered the lack of the same sentiment in the chief's expression.

"What's wrong?"

Boden nodded to the building behind them. Even through the water canons, blasting at full power, it was easy to see the monster of a fire consuming the building from the lobby up to the 8th floor. Heavy black smoke was starting to come out from most windows up until the 30th.

"Ventilation opened on the roof?" Kelly asked, getting a confirming nod from the older man. "Where are they now?"

"Last report we had from Herrmann, they were reaching the 37th."

"That smoke is black, chief," Severide pointed out, even though he knew Boden was well aware of that fact. "It's gonna backup on them, heading straight to the vent."

"I know," Boden said solemnly. "Herrmann is aware of that as well, but their only shot is to try and make it to the roof, otherwise they are left with no exit point."

Severide stared at the blazing fire for a few seconds, his eyes reflecting the red flames. When he finally blinked, there was a steel determination in his gaze. "There is another way."

-o-

"Everyone, stop!" Herrmann called out, his free hand in the air. "Be quiet!"

The group slowly moving behind him froze in place, leaning against the wall, trying to catch their breath. It was getting harder to breathe, the smoke eating away at their oxygen before they could use it to feed their starving lungs.

Every one of them, except for Andrew, knew the danger of what they were doing and knew exactly what Herrmann was listening for. Every couple of floors, he would stop to do the same.

It was basic fire behavior 101. Trapped inside a closed space with fast heating air, the fire would look for the closest available source of oxygen. In general, that would be the security vent created by the firefighters to drive the fire path as far away from their location as possible.

The problem was, the current fire path was also their only way out.

Experienced firefighters will tell of how they can hear the fire 'talk' before it makes a move. Sometimes it's a growl louder than most, other times it's nothing but a moment of silence before all hell is unleashed.

Herrmann thought that was all a load of crap.

Fire breathed and moved like an oily snake, but it had no tongue to speak. He'd learned to predict the fire by watching it carefully, by trusting his knowledge and instincts.

He had been seeing the signs for a couple of minutes now. The rolling flames chasing after them in the stairway were getting lower and starting to crawl, the air was growing heavier and still and the hairs at the back of his neck were standing at attention like it was parade day.

He looked at their group, trying to guess how fast they would be able to take cover when that back draft came for them. Andrew was keeping up better than he had expected, his movements hindered by a leg he couldn't use but still maintaining a good pace with the help of Smith. After Dawson had explained to him what was going on and they had listened how the lieutenant's quick thinking had prevented them both from falling alongside the elevator's car into their deaths, Andrew had channeled his contempt and anger towards Casey into actual concern for the man.

Casey, hanging all but limply between Herrmann and Bowman, was the one who worried him the most. At first, Dawson had insisted on helping the lieutenant up those stairs, but as they progressed, it became clearer and clearer that Casey had been too optimistic in his claim that he could stand and they had been too much in denial to expect him to pull miracles out of his as—

The point was, as Casey started carrying less and less of his own weight, Dawson had been forced to admit that she couldn't keep him up and had switched places with Bowman.

The lieutenant wasn't looking so hot, as far as Herrmann could tell. His eyes were open, but so glassy and unfocused that it was anyone's guess if he was actually seeing anything. And he kept mumbling to himself, sometimes nothing but nonsense, sometimes sweet nothings that everyone was sure were meant for Dawson's ears only, even when Bowman replaced her.

Herrmann had a sudden sense of dread seconds before he felt the odd rush of air coming up the stairway. "Everyone, TAKE COVER!" he yelled, thanking the good Lord above that they were standing near the door to the 40th floor and not the middle of the steps.

He held the fire door open, shoving all the others inside before jumping in after them. The intense fire that suddenly exploded into life in the exact same place they had been half a second before, banged against the fire door like it was politely asking for them to open.

Leaning against the door, fearful that the power of the back draft they had just escaped would push it open, Herrmann surveyed the ragged group in front of him, coughing and wheezing on the floor.

Smith and Bowman had followed his example and had long started to share their oxygen supply with Dawson and Andrew. In result, they were all suffering from smoke inhalation, but they could still breathe.

Andrew was laying down on his back, his chest heaving despite the fresh oxygen being provided by the tank. His leg had started bleeding again, but no one, including Andrew, seemed to have noticed it.

Dawson, face covered in sooth just like the rest of them, was sitting on the floor, Casey's head supported by her legs. The lieutenant's eyes were nothing but slits of blue in his face, and despite the fact that they were all but sitting in darkness, he still tried to hide his face in Dawson's chest every couple of minutes. Every time he did, Gabriela would whisper an apology and push his face away, struggling to keep the oxygen mask secured over his mouth.

"We're not gonna make it to the roof, are we?" she whispered, her eyes never leaving the man on her lap.

Herrmann rubbed his short hair sturdily. It had been an insane risk to use that staircase before. Now that the fire had found its way to a fresh supply of air, it would be suicide. Staying there, however, tasted of giving up. "There has to be another way," he mumbled, more to himself than the others.

If there was one, though, he sure wasn't seeing it. "Let's move away from this door," he said instead. The metal was starting to heat under his touch and he was sure that fire door wouldn't last much longer.

With a collection of groans and pained moans, the group slowly got to their feet again, moving deeper into the 40th floor.

In the spot where Casey had been lying down, a small white box was left abandoned on the floor. No one but Andrew seemed to noticed.

-o-

"You sure this is going to work?" Boden asked, trying to keep his bubbling hope from reaching his voice. If there was someone capable of imagining an insane rescue plan and with the skills to pull it off, that someone was Kelly Severide. This, however, sounded like it was verging on the edge of science fiction rather than ingenious.

"It's their only chance, chief," Severide assured the older man as soon as he closed his phone. "My buddy says that he'll be here in ten minutes."

Just as he finished that last word, the massive explosion of fire bursting through the roof of the building made everyone jump and run for cover. A dangerous rain of broken glass and burned metal fell down like, a massive volley of flying projectiles from a firing squad up above.

"Herrmann! Herrmann, please respond?!" Boden called on the com. as soon as the air seemed safe enough to open his mouth. "Herrmann, report!"

"Still here, chief," Herrmann's rough voice sounded after a bit, punctuated by harsh coughs. "We're trapped on the 40th floor."

Severide exchanged a meaningful look with Boden. "Tell them to stay put," he said, racing to his car. "Tell them we're coming to them!"

-o-

"What does he mean, '_coming to us'_?" Smith asked. He sounded truly curious, not knowing Severide well enough to either believe or doubt the man's words. The fact remained that they were stuck in the middle of a burning building with zero chances of moving up or down without roasting alive and no rescue protocol he'd ever heard of provided contingency plans for that.

The oxygen tanks were all but depleted, everyone deciding unanimously that whatever was left should be saved for the most serious of the injured, just in case.

Lieutenant Casey had lost consciousness soon after they had chosen that particular office to make their last stand. It didn't bode well for his head injury that he had become completely unresponsive, but then again, Smith doubted that any of them would be alive to see the next hour.

The smoke was becoming increasingly intense, even laying low as they were, and it would be a question of minutes before the fire made it to them.

Smith looked longingly at the wide windows surrounding the corner office. If push came to shove, he would have serious doubts on whether he would stay put and burn alive or just jump to his death. Forty floors up, he would be dead from asphyxiation long before he hit the ground, a much kinder death than fire.

When the first glare of light hit him in the eyes, Smith thought he was imagining it. Looking closely, he could see that the intense lights belonged to an helicopter, flying just outside the windows. 'News reporters', he thought with disdain, imagining that they had come to film their demise to feed their audience.

"What the hell is that?" Herrmann asked, slowly making his way closer to the window. On the side of the helicopter, rather than a news' cast emblem, he could see the letters SAR written in white on the fuselage.

When he turned to look at the others, no one could miss the huge smile spreading through his face. "Ladies and gents, the cavalry is here!"

"Search and Rescue?" Dawson asked, peering outside as well.

"Coast Guard, I would say, from the colors on the chopper," Bowman pitched in.

"_Care to let us in?"_ Severide's voice broke through their coms. _"We're kind of in a hurry to put this bird back before anyone notices it's gone."_

"Break those windows!" Herrmann said, moving to help Smith and Bowman smash the glass on the large panel windows right in front of the static helicopter. Seeing the straight ladder that helicopter was carrying, Herrmann had a good idea of what Severide had in mind.

_Insane_ didn't just quite cover it.


	10. Fly Away

AN: Thank you to all the wonderful people who have been reading and reviewing this story! You guys are the best!

-o- FLY AWAY -o-

This was the kind of rescue were so many things could go so terrible wrong that Severide decided that there was no point worrying about any particular one.

He had met Bobby years ago, in a course of sea rescue hosted by the Coast Guard. Bobby had been the pilot assigned to their class, flying them in and out of the rescue drills.

Up until the moment he had met Bobby, Severide had no idea that a chopper could become such a static object in the sky without simply dropping down. He had heard of some of the stunts that rescue pilots pulled on the job, everyone had heard about those stories. Bobby, however, had managed to turn helicopter piloting into nothing short of an art form. When he said the helicopter would remain static, it meant that you could balance a beer bottle on the tip of the bird and not spill a thing.

So, if there was someone that Severide trusted implicitly for what he was about to do, Bobby was the guy.

Everything else was up for grabs.

There was the fact that the hook ladder needed to be perfectly secured on both ends, the chopper and the window edge. The slightest movement on either side and the ladder would become unstable and fall.

The whistling of the wind, at four hundred feet high, was hard enough to be heard over the helicopter's paddles. Standing by the door, Severide watched the ladder in his hands shake and quiver as the strong winds passed it by, both the ones that naturally occurred that high up, plus the ones the hovering helicopter was causing. Even though it as made of steel, Kelly knew that standing on that ladder, under those conditions, would feel like crossing a rope bridge over the Grand Canyon.

He knew that, despite the risk, Herrmann, Smith and Bowman would be up to the task. Dawson was a tough woman, and in any other situation Kelly would put as much faith in her as he did on the rest of the firefighters, but Matt was seriously hurt and Kelly knew how much that would impair her judgment. Still, he had faith in their tough little paramedic.

It was the civilian and Matt who Kelly was most worried about. The first one because he had absolutely no training and no idea of what to expect once he got on that ladder, and Matt because of his condition.

Severide had been there, in that ambulance, when Matt had started seizing after his initial brain injury. Despite the fact that it was something that he had witnessed countless times before, the sight of Matt's eyes rolling inside his head as his muscles started contorting like rubber bands, had been one of the scariest things he could remember seeing. If the same thing happened now, when they were pulling Matt across...

Kelly shook his head and focused on what he could control. Bobby had taken the chopper as close to the building as the paddles would allow him. Looking up, Severide figured that Bobby had probably gone a step beyond that, because he could swear there was less than a foot between the rotor's blades and the building's surface.

Severide quickly tied three ropes and a backboard to the ladder and started pulling. Right in front of him, less than ten feet away, Herrmann was waiting to receive his slowly extending ladder.

"Get us down about two feet," Severide instructed over the headset, seeing that the ladder would be coming too high for Herrmann to secure it to the window.

With surgical precision, Bobby maneuvered the chopper down until the end of the extended ladder hit the window ledge. Herrmann gave him a thumb's up before turning to head back inside.

-o-

Dawson wasted no time releasing the backboard from the ladder and placing it next to Matt. "Smith, give me a hand here," she called out.

Gabriela lost herself in the familiar motions. Waiting for the other man to tilt Matt's body, slipping the hard board underneath him, placing and securing the straps, those were all procedures she had done a thousand times. As long as her hands were busy and she kept her focus on Matt she wouldn't lose her mind second-guessing the sanity of what they were about to do.

As she and Smith got Matt ready for transport, Bowman and Andrew were already on top of the ladder, getting ready to be the first ones across.

They were taking as many precautions as possible, under the circumstances, but to her trained eye, the harness and rope they were securing to themselves still made the whole thing look like a leap of faith, held by nothing but spit and a prayer.

The idea of sending Matt on to that ladder, strapped to a piece of plastic, across an abysm of hundreds of feet, made her stomach twist and burn.

"Dawson, you're next," Herrmann's voice cut through her thoughts. When she looked up, Bowman and Andrew were already inside the helicopter, safe and sound despite the odds her pessimist kept warning her about.

"I'm crossing with Matt," she said, putting her foot down.

One look at Herrmann's soot-covered face, however, told her that this was a battle that she could not win.

"You know I can't do that, Dawson," he said, the empathy in his voice telling her that he was being truly honest. "Smith will get you across and I'll make sure that the lieutenant gets to you safe and sound, okay?"

Dawson nodded, her face pale with worry and fear. Deep inside, she knew Herrmann was right. If anything went wrong while pulling Matt across, he would be better suited to handle the situation. Her gut, however, also told her that if anything were to go wrong, there wouldn't be much Herrmann would be able to do, even though he would try to the end. And she would be helpless, watching as both her lover and a good friend fell to their deaths.

Gabby gave Matt a quick kiss on the lips, telling herself that this wasn't goodbye. "See ya on the other side," she said with a faint smile that was too weak to hide the glint of tears in her eyes.

-o-

Herrmann was praying under his breath as he watched Dawson and Smith make their way into the chopper. So far everything was going textbook prefect, which meant that his legendary bad luck should be striking any minute now.

Taking no risks, Herrmann made sure that all the straps were secure and in place before placing the oxygen tank between Casey's legs. The lieutenant's breathing had gained a shallow quality about it that was ringing alarm bells in his gut. "Okay, pull him in," he spoke into the radio, giving Severide a thumb's up.

The backboard started sliding effortlessly across the ladder, their sizes made completely compatible precisely because of these situations.

The hard board, however, wasn't strapped to the ladder in any form or else they would not be able to move it.

Herrmann was mostly worried about the wind. From where he was standing, near the edge of the window with his feet planted on top of the ladder, the wind was strong enough to almost push him back inside the office. Less than a foot away from him, there was also the helicopter's blades tunnel wind to consider, adding to his concern.

He kept his eyes glued to the backboard's slow progress, looking for any sign of it flipping up and being dislodged from the ladder by a gush of wind.

So, when the backboard actually started to move, it took Herrmann a couple of seconds to realize that the culprit for the sudden and dangerous motion wasn't the wind at all but Casey himself.

"Stop! He's seizing!" he yelled over the radio, even though it was clear to see from the look of panic in Severide's eyes that he was already aware of the fact.

With one last look to make sure that ladder's hooks were well secured, Herrmann wasted no more time. He started making his way towards Casey, eyes focused on the man rather than on the floor, hundreds of feet below.

The sound of the hard plastic of the backboard banging against the metal ladder became Herrmann's sole focus. He had to make that noise stop; he had to make sure that Casey stopped moving so that Severide could pull him in the rest of the way.

The helicopter was so close, like a giant carrot waiting to take them to safety.

Without any meds on his gear, Herrmann did the only thing he could when he reached Casey. He threw himself over the other man, his hands and boots serving as anchors to keep the both of them on that ladder. "Now would be a really good time for you to stop doing this, lieutenant," he grinded through his teeth.

The seizure went on for what it felt like forever. Despite all of his heavy gear, Herrmann could still feel the lieutenant's muscles underneath his body, alternating between being tense as rock and limp as noodles.

"Chris!"

Herrmann looked up, his jaw hanging open as he saw Dawson standing right in front of him. How on earth had she convinced Severide to let her out of the chopper again? "Dawson? What the hell!?"

The paramedic, holding on precariously to the ladder with one hand, held a loaded syringe in the other. "Midazolam. Jam it right in his tight," she instructed, too far to be able to do it helself.

Herrmann took the auto-injector and, going by touch, did as she told, instinctively trusting her judgment in all medical matters.

At first, nothing happened. He risked a glance down, wondering if he had missed the lieutenant's leg altogether or if maybe the clothes Casey was wearing were too thick and the needle hadn't reached skin at all...

"Give it a few seconds," Dawson said, guessing the doubts in his look. Even holding on for dear life in a metal ladder hundreds of feet from the ground, watching as her boyfriend seized, she was in her element, her comfort zone.

As soon as she had spoken those words, Herrmann could feel the beginnings of some change in Casey's convulsing body. The big, sudden movements became smaller and smaller until all he could feel coming from the body underneath him were some fine tremors.

"Let's get him out of here," he said, meeting Dawson's determined stare.


	11. Screwed

AN: As always, my deepest thanks and warmest hugs for those who've reviewed, read, favorite or simply thought about this story. You guys are the best! Also, only one more chapter to go!

-o- Screwed -o-

The scene was all too familiar and recent for the people of House 51 not to establish parallels.

For one, they were in the same waiting room as before. Or maybe it was a different one, but it smelled the same and they were stuck with the same uncomfortable chairs that seemed made only of sharp angles. It was close enough.

There was a different doctor on duty this time around, but he too was one well known by everyone around, so the feeling of being in friendly hands was still there at least.

The clock on the wall said three AM, but no one was really paying attention to what time it was. The clock was there as a measurement of worry, mostly. It had been two hours since the helicopter had landed on the roof of the hospital and Matt had been rushed inside. Every tic and every tac that rolled by made the probability of something going wrong more and more real. A monster fed by passing minutes.

In her mind, Dawson kept going back to the same vision of Matt in the OR the time before, his head strapped down and everyone around him getting ready to drill a hole into his head. This time around, she couldn't find the strength in her legs to carry her down the hallway and search for Matt. She was too afraid of what she might find.

There were less people waiting with her this time around. The chief was leaning against the wall, trying hard to suppress his urge to pace a hole on the ground, an urge that he gave in to every couple of minutes anyhow.

Herrmann was slumped against one of the uncomfortable chairs, his exhaustion such that he actually managed to make it look like the most comfortable seat in the world. At his side, Smith and Bowman had joined the group, both worried about the fate of a man that they had only met a couple of hours before.

Sitting in front of Herrmann was Severide, arms crossed over his chest and his head leaning against the wall. For anyone passing by, it looked like he was dozing off, not a care in the world. Those who knew him, however, could easily recognize the deception in the tension of his shoulders and the way his hands were balled into fists, hidden under his armpits.

Dawson pulled closer the leather jacket that Severide had put over her shoulders, trying to still the shivers coursing through her body. She didn't really cared if the chills were because of the cold air in the waiting room or because she was in shock, she just wanted them to stop. They were all in shock, she figured.

Part of Severide's tense posture, Dawson knew to be due to his worry for Matt. She and Kelly had been the only ones truly aware of the risks Matt was taking by continuing on the job, the only ones who knew how bad things could be if he injured his brain a second time.

The other part of why Severide was sitting as far away from her as he could and would not meet her eyes was because he was still pissed at what had happened during the rescue. Mostly at himself, she thought.

For all intents and purposes, Severide had been forced to allow one victim to go in to a crazy dangerous situation to aid a second victim, when they had been in a helicopter filled with trained Search and Rescue professionals.

It had all happened too fast. One second the backboard carrying Matt to safety had been making good progress across the ladder, the second afterwards everything was shaking and in danger of falling apart.

Severide had stopped pulling immediately, even before the warning shout from Herrmann, and looked around in despair. "We need to do something!"

Like all Search and Rescue helicopters, there was a medical bag under the back seat. Without a word, Dawson pulled it out and started combing through its contents, a prayer under her breath.

As soon as Dawson found the pre-filled syringe she had been hoping would be amongst the medical supplies on board, she was moving to Severide's side.

She could see his eyes darting around, quickly taking note of the people on the helicopter and trying to gauge who would be the safest and quickest to deliver the anti-convulsing meds to Matt. Beyond him, they all could see the rapidly deteriorating situation on the ladder, with Herrmann risking his life as he acted as a human safety net for the convulsing lieutenant. They were running out of time.

"Let me," she begged. Dawson knew she was the best bet, if nothing else because she was the smallest and lightest person around. She also knew that she was the last person Severide should allow to do something that risky.

He looked between her and the two men on the ladder. The hook ladder, sturdy as was built, was already in a precarious situation because of its positioning and the surrounding winds. To add the weight of a third man to it would be risking sending the whole thing down.

"Please," Gabby insisted.

Severide gave her a small nod, his look of defeat and resignation hidden from view as he looked down to unclasp his own security line and secure it to Dawson's straps. "Go!"

His decision had saved Casey and Herrmann's lives, there was no doubt about it, but they were all well aware of how much luck had been involved in the process.

The sight of a white coat approaching grabbed everyone's attention back to the present.

Gabriela was in the man's face as soon as he stopped, her hands shoved deep inside her pockets to stop herself from grabbing the doctor's coat and shake some answers out of him. "How is he?"

The doctor took a deep breath before meeting her eyes, making Dawson's heart plunge to her feet. It wouldn't be good news.

"Matt is stable for now," he begun, his words carefully measured. "The initial MRI detected a minor bleeding in the same area of the previous injury, so we'll be monitoring that closely. Right now, however, our major concern is the risk of second impact syndrome."

Dawson blinked away the tears in her eyes, a look of confusion in her face. Even though she had already heard that term tossed around before, she wasn't exactly sure what that meant for Matt. She opened her mouth to ask, but words seemed to fail her as her throat constricted from worry.

"What does that mean?" Severide said, lending his voice to her doubts. "Is he going to okay?"

"A second brain injury, even a mild one, this close to the previous one can provoke a series of intracranial reactions that can cause a rapid and irreversible swelling of the brain tissue," the doctor explained, his grim tone making it easy to guess what the outcome would be if that were to happen. "We have placed Matt in an induced coma and placed him in mild hypothermia in hopes to better preserve his central nervous system function. Also, a subdural screw was placed in his skull, to monitor Matt's intracranial pressure more closely and, hopefully, give us a timely warning if his condition starts turning for the worse."

Dawson gasped, feeling like there wasn't enough air in the room to fill her starving lungs. Somewhere distantly, she could feel a hand on her shoulder, gently guiding her to a chair.

This... this was so much worse than what she'd imagined. Somehow, she had prepared herself to hear that everything was going to be either okay or that Matt had died. The not knowing, the waiting to find out if he was going to make it or not was more than what she could deal at the moment.

For a second, Gabriela felt an intense and desperate need to have Shay by her side, lending her strength and support.

Someone knelt in front of her and Dawson looked up. Severide's blue eyes seemed to be as wet as hers. "Matt's a tough son of a bitch," he said, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "He's gonna pull through, you'll see."

Gabriela took a deep breath, trying to push down her despair and sense of pending doom to manageable dimensions. "Can I see him?" she asked, her eyes lifting to meet the doctor's gaze. "Please?"

The man seemed reluctant to say yes, his eyes searching the crowd that had gathered around him to hear the news. "One person only," he said very clearly, leaving no room for arguments. "And just for a couple of minutes, okay?"

-o-

Entering the Neuro Trauma ICU was like walking into Sleeping Beauty's kingdom. There were two beds in each room, six rooms in a row, all of them kept in semi-darkness. Gabriela walked a few steps behind Matt's doctor, her attention lost on the number of people in the various beds, a sick game of speculation over which were better and which were worse than Matt taking hold of her.

"Five minutes," the doctor, paused at the door of the fourth room, reminded her. "We need to take him down for a new MRI afterwards."

Dawson nodded absent-minded, her attention already on the only occupied bed in that particular room. Her hand flew to her mouth to stop a scream from escaping as she caught sight of Matt.

Unlike the time before, Matt was lying on his back. His hair had been shaved on the left side of his head, from where a thin tube came out to connect him to a monitor placed by his side.

Blue pads of cooling liquid circled his chest and both tights, making it look like he was wearing an odd neoprene suit and was about ready to jump into the ocean.

And those were just the things that Dawson was unfamiliar with. On top of that, there were those that she was already expecting, like the assortment of IV lines, the EKG leads on his chest, the EEG leads on his head, the oropharyngeal Guedel tube in his mouth and the Foley cath to relieve his bladder.

She looked at the monitors, hoping that they would tell that Matt was okay, that he was just asleep and that all she had to do was wake him up and take him home.

The monitors, however, told a different story. His blood pressure and heart rate were too low, his O2 saturation was barely above normal and his EEG looked too convoluted for someone looking so peaceful.

No, peaceful was not the right word. Matt looked… fragile, like any sudden movement would shatter the illusion and make him disappear.

Gabriela placed her hand over his forearm. The skin was cold to the touch, colder than what she was expecting despite what the doctor had told her. It was ice-cold, deadly cold and all she wanted to do was find a warm blanket, tuck it around Matt's body and make all of this go away.

"I'm right here, baby," she whispered in his ear before kissing Matt's cheek. Gabby closed her eyes, wishing that the skin touching hers was warm instead of cold, wishing that this was truly a Sleeping Beauty fairy tale and that a kiss was all it took to wake him up. "I love you."

The alarm bell was not the outcome that Dawson had been wishing for. She barely had time to look up at the monitors, trying to see what was wrong, before she was pushed out of the way by the medical staff.

"You need to leave," a woman in blue scrubs told her. "Now!"

"Wait! No!" Dawson protested, fighting the hands that kept pushing her away from Matt.

The last thing she saw before the doors closed in on her was Matt, lost and fragile, disappearing under the flood of people in a variety of scrubs and white coats, like a piece of meat being devoured by fire ants.

-o-

Time stood still, frozen and stretching to the infinite in the same movement of the clock.

For everyone else, it had been a week since the night of the fire. For those waiting for Matt to wake up, an eternity had gone by.

The worse had passed, the doctors kept telling anyone who asked. After the scare in the ICU room, when Matt's heart rate had descendent to dangerously few beats per minute and they had been forced to place him on a temporary external pacemaker, he had stabilized. And time stood still.

Dawson had haunted the hospital halls for two days straight, refusing to leave Matt alone. By the end of day two, Shay was ready to simply drug her and take her home against her will. Matt's doctor's threat that Dawson would not be allowed inside the ICU until she showered and rested had been more effective.

It had been the hardest thing Gabriela had ever done, walking away knowing that at any second, Matt could take his last breath and she would not be there.

The chief had given her some time off, knowing that coming back to work in her current state of mind would be a danger to herself and any victim she tried to help. She almost wished he had made her go to work. Time passed too slow when all she had to do was wait.

A routine had been establish –and God! she had been there long enough to actually have routines!- in which Shay and Severide would pick her up in the morning, force some breakfast into her and drive her to the hospital. During the day, the members of 51 took shifts, both at work and watching over their fallen brother at the hospital.

At the end of the day, Severide and Shay would return and drag her away to sleep at either their place or her brother's, because she was under strict orders from her friends to not go home alone and mope.

Whenever they were working, someone else from the firehouse would take their turn, making sure that Dawson was never alone.

At some level, she appreciated the gesture and was touched by how much everyone loved Matt and was willing to be there for her. On another, however... it felt like they were treating her like one of those firefighters' widows, closing ranks on her and flooding her with their support.

It made Dawson's stomach turn every time she thought of that.


End file.
